Bloodless Moon
by Museless-Wanderings
Summary: With the death of her mother, Andrea is forced to face reality. What happens when she finds her mother's journal? Did this strange man from her mother's past have anything to do with her mother's death? Come...see a darker side of your beloved labyrinth.
1. Chapter 1: Endings

**Bloodless Moon**

**Chapter 1: Endings**

_"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."_ Seneca

A dark figure sat before a glowing orb, staring intently at it. The only light around him emanated from this tiny object, a lone star in the vast darkness of the unknown. The mysterious figure, darker then the shadows it lurked in leaned away from this light, keeping its face concealed as it observed the orb with great intent. Upon its surface rippled a picture of an unnamed young women. She was standing beneath an umbrella, an older man at her side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. The figure hissed quietly with delight at the scene before him.

The picture changed, focused on what she was standing before, a coffin being lowered into the ground, a man dressed in black standing before it. The name upon the grave had great importance to this figure, and it had been watching for some time now. Once again the orb focused on the women, hazel eyes clouded from the tears that streaked her cheeks. Her dark brown hair was tied out of her way in a black silk ribbon. The figure leaned in closer toward the picture, revealing some of his face in the light.

His features were sharp, angular, handsome even. His mismatched eyes held power and hatred in them, as well as a small seed of curiosity. Blonde hair framed his face, complimenting though disordered. Everything about him seemed chaotic, dark, terrifying, yet alluring in a peculiar way.

A smirk of recognition suddenly dawned upon the stranger as his gaze fell upon the man beside the women. Hatred was thick on his tongue however as he uttered a single word:

"Toby."

The room was once again shrouded in darkness as his hand wiped the picture and light free from the glistening star. Two pinpricks of light shone from his eyes where everything else turned to the darkest pitch of night.

--

"Ms. Williams? I'm Dr. Fairfield please follow me to my office."

A young women turned her attention away from the political drabble on the waiting room TV screen. Her short pixie-like hair was disheveled and she brushed it away from her eyes as she stood. Her movements were very sinuous, as if she were dancing rather then moving. Her hazel pools shifted wearily about the room before coming to rest on the elderly women. She offered no smile, no warmth, she did not so much as raise her hand for a normal greeting. No, she'd not waste time with formalities.

The therapist offered her a warm smile before leading her up the stairs, taking her time. She was well dressed, modern but professional. Her salt and pepper hair was tied in a fashionable bun, not a strand loose from its confines. Her blue eyes were full of wisdom and a shield. The younger women behind her imagined without the shield she would see years of sorrow and pity for those she'd treated. The pity was not wanted by the new patient however, if anything she'd tried to avoid that since the day her life had begun falling in shambles around her.

"If you'll just have a seat Ms. Williams, make yourself comfortable." Dr. Fairfield waited for the women to oblige.

"Call me Andrea, please." Was the reply as she picked out a blue rocking chair, away from the sunlit couch.

The elder women closed the door and sat in her office chair, shuffling a few papers around on her desk before straightening them out with a few gentle taps and turning to face her client. Carefully she adjusted her spectacles and began reviewing the information before her. She'd gone over it several times, but double checked in order to begin the conversation properly.

"You're here for grief counseling, is that correct Andrea?" Dr. Fairfield's eyes moved to take in the girl's reply, assessing every movement, deciphering the secret language of the body.

The girl shifted her position before responding, "I suppose we can call it that."

The doctor nodded and jotted a few things down before continuing. "Your mother, Sarah Williams, passed away recently, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"She died in her sleep?"

"That's what the doctors told us, yes."

The women shuffled her papers out of habit. "Do you believe otherwise?"

Andrea shrugged, not really caring to reply. If she explained everything she thought about the strange case it could get her put in some psych ward she didn't have the time or mentality to deal with. She knew to keep her mouth shut, she had to. Though deep in her heart she knew it was something other then sleep that killed her young and lively mother.

"We can get to that later," the women replied, jotting down her observations carefully. "How have you been dealing with your mother's departure?"

Andrea was quiet for a moment, she didn't really know how to answer her question. She didn't understand what there was left to deal with that she hadn't already dealt with. She'd been doing the best she could, living alone. Her hands grazed the soft texture of the chair and she silently wondered how many people had sat in the very same spot, being asked similar questions. The room smelled of mint and lavender, an odd mix but not exactly unpleasing.

"I work, I sleep, and I have my friends to help me through the rest. It's hard but...life goes on." There was a bit of sarcasm in her voice that confused the doctor. The scratching of pen indicated more notes.

"How is your father dealing with this?"

"My father has been out of our lives for several years now." She paused, "the day of her funeral was the first time I'd seen him within that period."

"Do you wish it would have been different?"

The women shrugged, "well, my mother had a tough time being a single mom, but she made it through. I think she was happier, I was in a way. I was kind of insulted that he came to the funeral at all."

"Why is that?"

"Well, for one he brought along his new young fling for the ride, for two, he hadn't contacted her in that time span either. Only thing she got from him was a monthly check for child support."

Dr. Fairfield nodded her head in understanding, she'd worked with a lot of divorce cases and the victim children of those cases. Most were devastated, some, like Andrea were better off with the change. It was the years of torment beforehand that they usually needed counsel with, but the doctor knew these things would be saved for a later date. Today's session was to be focused entirely on the thing her patient needed to get off her mind.

"Is there anyone helping you financially?"

"My uncle Toby has been very supportive financially and mentally. He covered the cost of the funeral and took care of all of the legal stuff. He's helping me with this too." Andrea focused her attention on the carpet, boring designs meant to look more appeasing then they actually were. They were tacky and generic, an off white with an assortment of colors scattered at random.

Her therapist wrote down a few more things before continuing, "what was life like just before your mother passed away? Was there anything odd about her? Anything she did out of habit?"

"No, not that I can recall. She was a very happy person, didn't take anything for granted and over all enjoyed life as much as possible." She said, "though she was having nightmares more frequently."

"Have you ever heard the theory that people who die in their sleep are dreaming of falling?" Dr. Fairfield asked gently.

She couldn't meet the women's gaze, "yes, my mother did."

"Have you ever dreamed of falling Andrea?"

The young women drew her gaze to a motivational picture on the doctor's wall. It was a picture of a bluish-white light house atop a craggy cliff, a rampant surf crashing around it, sending spray shooting like arrows towards its massive bulk. Its light shone brightly over the raging tempest and a single word was printed at the picture's base.

"Believe"


	2. Chapter 2: Haunting Dreams

**Bloodless Moon**

**Chapter 2: Haunting Dreams**

_"I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams."_ Hamlet

The click of the lock opening to her apartment was the best sound Andrea had heard all day. She slipped inside slowly and leaned into the door to shut it, resting against its familiarity for a moment. With a sigh not nearly as deep as to cover the events of the day she removed her jacket and flung it over one of her dining room chairs before heading directly to the shower. She shed her clothes like baggage and pulled her hair down, brushing through it quickly before turning to the tub.

She turned the water on as hot as it would go, once it was steaming up the small room she gladly jumped into it. The shock of the heat went away along with the aches in her muscles. She allowed herself to soak in it for a long while before moving to actually wash. The cleanliness did not sooth her as much as the scalding heat, nothing seemed to make her feel completely clean anymore. Ever since her mother died and the dreams began.

Unshed tears washed away down the drain along with the pains and regrets. All of these things were invisible, yet were enough to take a great weight off her shoulders, and as she exited into a cool white towel she stood a little straighter. There was nothing in the world that could take the pain away, but there were things that helped to numb it. Slowly, cautiously she made her way to the bedroom, her head spinning slightly from the drastic temperature change. Her bedroom was even cooler as she entered to find a clean, comfortable outfit.

Once she was dressed she noticed the source of the temperature drop and frowned slightly. She didn't remember opening the window, perhaps she'd forgotten about it. She shrugged and closed it before returning to the living room, were she turned the TV on, ignoring the station and made herself something to take the edge off of reality. The couch was comfortable as she sank into it, the alcoholic beverage in her hand adding to it's warm embrace. She laughed softly at someone on the TV as they mocked one of the more popular actresses in a recent film.

A shiver snaked its way up Andrea's spine as a cold draft settled upon her and she turned her head curiously to the direction it had come. She took another sip of the alcohol, shuddering as it enflamed her stomach before getting up to investigate. She entered the kitchen and frowned slightly to see the window above the counter was open. She moved to shut it but changed her mind quickly. Her landlord was against smoking inside but since recently picking up the habit and a bad attitude she decided not to heed his rules. Instead she lit one up and leaned on the counter and slightly out the window.

It was a beautiful night, though chilled. The stars were oddly bright and the moon at its crest. The sounds of the city drifted upon the air, like feathers, tickling her ears. She exhaled a cloud of poison, enjoying as it blocked out the scene before her for a moment, softening the sharp edges of the city.

A movement caught her gaze in a nearby tree, the fluttering of wings reached her ears. Curiously her eyes scanned its vast branches, looking for the source. When she found it her mind reeled. It was an owl, probably the last thing she'd ever expect to see in the heart of any city. She didn't know what kind it was, though it adorned white feathers that caught the moonlight in a radiant aura.

"Beautiful" she whispered.

Just as quickly as it had appeared the owl took off, hovering for a moment before disappearing with a final glint of silver. Andrea sighed and regretfully tossed her cigarette out the window before closing it. A blinking light caught her attention as she turned, its source her cordless phone. She frowned, she hadn't heard the phone ring and hadn't noticed the light before. Shrugging she approached it and put it on speaker.

After announcing that she had one unheard message, it automatically played. For a moment there was utter silence where she could hear the gentle beat of her heart. She was confused, no sound of breathing, perhaps the call had cut out. Her silent questioning ended as a voice filled the silence, beautiful, velvet, compelling. The pace of her heartbeat quickened as recognition dawned on her. She'd heard the voice before.

"Hello Andrea, just checking in to inform you I have a gift you might covet. It lies in the place that we first met."

She waited but the mechanical voice informed her it was the end of the message. Promptly she deleted it, she had no desire to hear that voice again, yet she couldn't completely ignore the feeling of excitement within her. She stood there for a moment, gazing at her bedroom door, her face growing hot. If it was where she thought it was, it would mean that he had entered her house, violating her privacy. Carefully, as if one step might throw her to her feet she made her way to the door, hands visibly shaking.

The room was cold though the window remained firmly shut. She checked the locks once more before turning to her bed. Her face was still heated as she confirmed the fact that she had first met him while in bed, though she was sleeping. She tried to deny that he could be real, yet she was staring right at a cloth wrapped object.

Hands shaking she picked it up, gently unwrapping it, throwing the cloth back onto the bed. In her hands lay a leather bound book, it was red with signs of age. It took her a moment to realize it had belonged to her mother. Sorrow filled her, causing her heart to weigh tons within her chest. A memory flooded her though she tried to reject it.

_The diary rested once more in her hands, but her hands were much smaller, the dresser before her massive. If she had looked up into the mirror she would have seen a much younger version of herself. She was 7 and had been rummaging though her mother's things for something interesting. Often doing such lead to finding all sorts of treasures. From costumes and makeup to wonderful books and pictures. This time however, her mother caught a glimpse of the item the young girl possessed and just as she was opening it to read, Sarah snatched it out of her grasp._

_"MOM!" The young girl whined, "I was just looking."_

_"This is my private diary Andrea, and it not polite to read someone's diary." Her mother had a confusing look of desperation on her face, rather then anger. "It is a secret place where someone writes down all of their thoughts and dreams."_

_"But I want to know momma." She pouted._

_"Tell you what, we'll get you your own diary, and you can write whatever you want in it and mommy and daddy will never read it." Sarah smiled softly, "but you have to promise not to read mommy's, alright sweetheart?"_

_"Okay, I promise momma."_

15 years later Andrea snapped out of her daze, running her hands along the smooth cover. She felt disturbed, a man she had never truly met before had been haunting her dreams, had left her a message, and her mother's diary. She shuddered, it wasn't right. Even if she had been imagining things, her mother's diary was still here, and it had not been the last time she'd entered the room.

Her head rang as she made her way back to the living room, turning off the TV. Perhaps this mysterious and terrifying man had known her mother. Maybe he knew how she….no, her mother died in sleep, there could be no other alternative. Gently she stroked the spine of the cover, hesitating, knowing there may be things in it that she didn't want to know.

The binding creaked quietly as she opened it. She leafed through the first few pages until she got to an entry. There, in the handwriting of her mother began a story she'd heard many times as a child. She smiled softly, a tear streaming down her cheek. The very thought of her childhood threatened to break open floodgates of promised pain. She wiped at it violently, she wouldn't be able to read if she kept it up. As she turned her attention back to the story she skipped ahead. Some parts of the story included things her mother hadn't told her. More that she'd censored.

Her heart skipped a beat as her mother described the goblin king. Adrenaline shot into her blood stream as she realized the man her mother was describing looked very much the same as the man she'd dreamed about. Perhaps they were one in the same. Andrea refused to jump to conclusions however. The thing that really nagged her though, was that if he were really the same man, then her mother's story would not have been just a story. She found herself trembling as she read on.

The night seemed to slow as she learned of how her mother's life had gone. How she graduated high school, met her father, gotten married and had her. She had loved her father very much. Not one entry mentioned the man again other then fleeting moments when Andrea assumed otherwise. Like a single phrase about her wedding. Something along the lines of the one man that popped in her head 'that man' as she said her vows, but no name escorted the words as she continued on.

Eventually Andrea had read herself almost to the present date, but she had begun to slow. Words began to blend together, background noise faded in the dullness of her need to sleep. Gently she set the journal down on her coffee table. She left her drink where it was, telling herself she'd take care of it in the morning. She didn't even stop as she usually did, she didn't hesitate, didn't even give a fleeting thought as to what nightmares may ensue once her eyelids brushed her cheek. No, she happily fell upon her bed and allowed sleep to take her.

A dark figure stood across from her, leaning on the opposite wall, smirking. His face was dimly lit though his sharp features seemed to glow with menace. He seemed utterly relaxed, as if this apartment were his own. His dark gaze fell upon the young women, lying in her bed. In his hand he gently squeezed a crystal ball, though if one were to observe him, it seemed as if he took no notice of it, nor remembered he was even holding onto such a beautiful orb.

His light blonde hair stirred in the breeze coming through the open window, and he smiled cruelly. His voice was soft and seemed to echo in the small space, though his lips remained unmoving. "Sweet dreams, dear Andrea."

Andrea knew she was dreaming, for she'd been having the same dream night after night since her mother passed away. She wasn't able to wake herself up however, or control her dream even though she was more lucid then in others. She could control her actions, her decisions, but never her dream.

It was always hot in this place, though she could never truly focus on where she was. Sweat beaded on her forehead and rolled down the sides of her face. She was always wearing a white dress, tight and torn at the bottom, revealing more then politically correct. She was leaning against a stone wall, a breeze whipping her hair around in an annoying fashion. The cool stone felt good against the heat of the air. The wind itself raked every part of her skin painfully as if it carried sand from distant dunes. In the background she could hear the ocean, crashing against a hard surface, unseen from her vantage point.

In past dreams she had tried to run away, tried to find some way out of the inevitable. But he was inescapable, and laughed at her feeble attempts. Instead she now waited for him, waited for the man who may know more about her mother then anyone else possibly could. Her skin pricked as she thought of the way the dream usually turned, and hoped she could distract him.

He approached her in all white, a mockery of his own character. She shielded her eyes as the sunlight glinted off of him. A disgust grew in her as she realized there was a bit of yearning in her, of anticipation for what she knew would come if he refused to answer her questions. Silently she watched his graceful movements, his uneven tufts of hair blowing in wisps with the wind, his mismatched eyes secreting a darkness she once would have been too innocent to understand.

As his body drew nigh to her she found herself shaking, her knees beginning to give in. Her body sweat from the heat, making the stones behind her slick. She managed to grasp them however, half supporting herself upon them. Her heart rate quickened, her breath caught in her lungs . She raised one hand in front of her, though he moved until it touched his chest.

"Stop." She nearly had to cough it out as the word seemed stuck in her throat.

He amused her, his features and stance hinting towards curiosity. She waited for a moment, searching for the questions in her jumbled thoughts.

"You knew my mother." It was not a question.

His eyes grew shielded, but there was amusement in his glance. "Did you enjoy my gift?"

"You know something about her death, don't you?"

He smirked, "she died in dream."

"And you have power over dreams or you would not be here." She almost hissed.

"On the contrary my dear, your mind was quite inviting, I simply wandered in and you did the rest." He drew closer, bored with her inquisitiveness.

She pressed against the wall until it was painful, "but you know there was more to her death then that, don't you?"

Anger flashed into his eyes and his voice took on a tone similar to that of molten steel. "Insolence, you are so very much like your mother."

Andrea braced herself as his body pressed against her roughly, his skin burned against hers where it touched as if he himself were the sun and source of the landscape's heat. His hands formed manacles around her own and she knew from past experience that there was no use struggling. She tried to hide her head as he leaned in towards her. He simply squeezed her wrists until there was so much pain she gasped and turned her head towards him.

As his lips met hers, her very blood seemed to boil and the pain was unbearable. The moment she felt as if she would burst into flames he was no longer beside her, and she was wrapped in a cold current that swept her away from the heat. It dragged her down with invisible force. She screamed but there was no sound, the very air itself was so thick she choked as she inhaled it. It gave her no relief and she felt herself drawn into the dark void, body so desperately in need of oxygen. She convulsed uncontrollably and found herself wanting that darkness where the cold numbed everything. She reached for it, grasping for the sweet release of death.

_**AN: fixed some of the name mistakes, sorry about that, this is what happens when one of your RPing characters is named amanda and you're writing at 4 in the morning. lol**_


End file.
